


A Quiet Morning

by Trifoilum



Series: Texting Robert [11]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: A casual scene where Robert takes his meds, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Morning Sex, Naked Cuddling, Shameless Smut, mentions of Marilyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 14:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12435057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trifoilum/pseuds/Trifoilum
Summary: First thing first, Robert Small wasn't alone this morning. Totally a victory worth celebrating.





	A Quiet Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Another smut~
> 
> Disclaimer : While the non-smut chapters can be read as any gender, the smut chapters are (going to be written) from a perspective of a cis male (with some hints of past experience with other cis males which may or may not be Alex). Thank you for the understanding~
> 
> also CW: Barebacking. I alluded that they were clean, but I apologize for not being able to state that more clearly. 
> 
> Again, daringly unbeta-ed.
> 
> ETA : ....and cravenly edited to rephrase certain parts.

First thing first, Robert Small wasn't alone this morning. Totally a victory worth celebrating.

Second thing he noted: it was freezing as fuck. His boyfriend was shifting around; most likely flipping his pillow to cover the wet spot because he drooled worse than Betsy. The huge wet circle every morning warned Robert enough; never let his buddy use his arms as a pillow. But not even that could curb his craving to hold him close. Robert moved his own pillow to give a space for the sleeping man to drool, and pulled him closer so that Robert could nuzzle his hair with ease. 

The hair was soft, and the sweet smell of vanilla and coconut made Robert imagine the lazy days of summer. Goddammit, if this was the result, he wouldn't complain at all about his buddy's haircare regiment.

(Extra hydrating shampoo for winter, a matching conditioner, a serum, and  _olive oil_. How about that.)

He loved how their body heat balanced each other; his body too hot, the sleeping man beside him too cold.

With a yawn, Robert opened his eyes. The still sleeping boyfriend in his arms never bothered to cover the windows for two years, leaving Robert at the mercy of the morning light. When he finally got used to the light, his buddy's sleeping face greeted him, gaping wide and stupid and unguarded. Apparently the morning light was merciful today because his boyfriend looked damn good under the sun. Maybe that was also part of his regiment.

Whatever the fuck the truth was, he succeeded on that. He was adorable.

He was also begging to be pranked.

One of these days, Robert just might put something inside that wide open mouth. Not his cock, but maybe popcorn. Or a candy. 

 _Ice_. Yes, ice.

Consciousness began noting other important things: the faint scent of books, signifying he was in his boyfriend's bedroom. He wasn't hungry, or in need to go to the bathroom again. Betsy was outside, judging by the pitter-patter of her legs. She probably wanted to brave the snow. She seemed to see the snow as one big curiosity to explore. 

Then the consciousness noticed all the marks he had left, red and glaring all across the sleeping man's body. If anyone asked, Robert had an internal memory logging the date and time he left each and every one of them. He grinned and traced his own skin, remembering the spots where he was marked during those same times. 

So what if Mary snickered, and so what if the Cahn baby silently judged him with her ancient knowing eyes? These were medals of honor, something to be proud of, something to be shown with pride. They made Robert feel warm inside that definitely had nothing to do with the temperature. 

His cock slightly twitched. Good.  

Now half-awake, Robert took his sweet time watching the other man’s eyelashes fluttering, absently brushing the dried lips that were beginning to chap. He didn’t mind it; in fact he didn’t mind anything as long as he could kiss those lips on and on.

Then as if he just found a heat source, the younger man stirred and turned around, snuggling against Robert's warmer body. A cold hand moved Robert’s arms to wrap around him, and a certain ache tightened its grip on Robert's chest, a good ache that made the hunter wrap his arms tighter around the sleeping body.  It also made him half-hard within a second.

If he had any say to this, Robert wouldn't ever let go. He liked these moments way too much. 

Robert never liked mornings.

Mornings had been the time for other people,  _normal people_  to live. For him, mornings meant loneliness; another cycle of mistakes and disappointment. Mornings meant facing again how much he failed everyone. The bright light would heighten the pounding headache while exposing all bottles and trashes, all mistakes and regrets he had always tried to bury the night before.  Worse, mornings would lure him with peace and acceptance and  _his family_  before cruelly taking it away. 

_Worthless, worthless, worthless._

Having the man as a friend gave Robert strength to withstand those voices. Having the man in his armsshut the voices down, leaving only his heart to beat alone during the night. Even now Robert still failed to pinpoint how. Maybe he didn't want to. Dissection would break the spell. 

Only now had he known how comfortable it was to hold someone like this. 

Marilyn was a conqueror, and he had been young and reckless. Together they were Bonnie and Clyde, Pumpkin and Honey Bunny, Han Solo and Princess (General) Leia. When they were together, empires fell apart as they rode to the sunset. When they were not, survival was the name of the game. Separation was a challenge, not a problem. It made Robert stronger because he knew out there she was fighting the good fight.

Now, doing nothing felt less like a torture and more like he was building something good. They were piling within the hum of the washing machine, in the chaos inside his fridge, in the colorful pile of food inside Betsy's bowl; a mixture of dog food with chicken bits. A Lizzie McGuire shirt wandered to Robert's washing machine; it fondly reminded him of the other man's presence. Robert left a knife to express the same sentiment. 

_You entered my life, and I entered yours._

He wouldn't have it any other way-- He couldn't now, in fact.

As much as he tried, there was still a fifty-fifty chance that he would fail to wake up until his boyfriend was gone. The moment when Robert felt the empty space resembled a heavy dip inside his guts, like being skinned alive, the kind of grief that woke his own demons up and make it  _remember_  and  _suggest_ and _doubt_  and fuck it. Fuck it all.

Maybe he was weak. Or maybe Robert just hated most mornings. 

His boyfriend snored, but it sounded more like a soft purr. That broke Robert's brooding session. As much as mornings suck, today was definitely an exception to the rule. Robert could indulge himself today. It would be a delightful torture, with his cock like this, his boyfriend so close like this, wiggling his ass like this…

Wait. The ass was wiggling.

"You up, buddy?” Careful lips asked clarification from naked shoulder, landing softly before being pressed once, twice, thrice. One of his fingers traced circles on the torso, waiting for any reaction from the sleeping man. The reply came in the form of a gentle sigh, and then brought further by the ass rubbing the leaking cock up and down.

The younger man's smile was growing, and Robert didn't even try fighting the grin on his face. Robert declared his urge; by partly lying on top of the younger man, he let gravity reveal the message:  _I want you._  He drove the point further by sliding his slick cock along the smooth cleft. Its question was clear:  _do you want me?_

A nervous giggle sealed the deal.  _Morning sex_ , sung Robert's entire body in glee.  _Morning fucking sex, fuck yeah._

Wasting no time, a nipple was pinched as the other hand sneaked downwards. Robert rubbed his boyfriend's shaft up and down, using his thumb to play with the tip, feeling the body under him writhing. Every movement was controlled; their intentions clear. 

_Unravel._

Only now did the man open his eyes, blinking fast a few times before he escaped the body pinning him.  A smile crowned his boyfriend's flustered face, adorned with a gaze that said _I can't believe I'm here_. That look always stripped Robert bare, inflamed him, set his body on fire with the urge to return that same message with his body. Demonstrate precisely how he wasn't dreaming, that this was real and they were  _alive_.

The other man’s body turned slightly to face Robert. It gave Robert easy access to kiss him as much as he wanted to. The other man tried to shy away, but all it managed to accomplish was waking Robert's hunter instinct, to chase the elusive pair of lips.

 “Stop it,” said the other man. As feeble as it was, the resistance was there. "My breath’s horrible.”

 _Only that?_  "So what? Here, smell mine," growled Robert. 

His breath was frantically waved away.  With a scowl, his boyfriend turned his head and let one long exhale. It was sour and damned disgusting, but it was also adorable. 

The hunter knew nuzzling would work, so he rubbed his nose behind the younger man’s ears. Playful fingers delivered another strike by grazing below his hips. There was a soft, helpless sigh. "Come on, babe. I miss your lips. Look at me," he pleaded in a low voice. “I don’t mind the stench at all.”

The implicit message:  _You can't run._

The other man turned to face Robert with an unfamiliar shyness.  _Nice_. That made another addition to the hunter's spank bank. He should have taken some picture; his mind kept so many images at this point that Robert actually considered making the written version, like some observation journal people made for special cryptids. Are there enough words to describe perfection? Is there enough space in this world? Would his boyfriend mind being recorded 24/7?

Then Robert saw his boyfriend pout, and apparently he had been distracted. For all his shyness, hungry lips kissed Robert with barely contained impatience. Morning breaths were practically forgotten at this point, and the happy noise from his boyfriend made Robert grin widely. The request to explore Robert's mouth was gentle, something he so gladly approved because he got to return the favor. And because the other man initiating meant they would never stop.

"I want you," whispered his boyfriend between kisses. "Take me."

With his command, the kiss became searing, dominant.  _Give yourself to me._ Robert thrust his tongue inside the other's mouth, giving a taste of what he would like to do to the younger man's hole. The nipple was red and hard and cute and the surprised gasp when Robert pinched one of those turned his grin shameless. More kissing. There was a sound that wasn't exactly a growl, neither was it a groan, but sounded like the ugly mix of both. It took Robert a while to realize that he made that sound.An animalistic urge to mark his mate, to begin this day with a proof he could feel that this man was his.

_Give yourself to me, because I'm so ready to give myself to you._

The room was filled with the sounds of lips meeting lips, slipped between the rustling noises of moving bodies against the bed sheet. They were spooning, with his boyfriend as the little spoon, arching slightly to meet Robert's lips. His hands were holding tight on Robert, practically letting himself be trapped by the older man. At his mercy _,_ he had once said _._  What bullshit. This was a posture of someone who had never felt threatened in the first place. Robert used to think this behavior was stupid and naive. That might have been a projection.

They murmured each other's name. They were erratic, almost like a plea. Robert's cock was aching at this point, red and demanding. “Wanna feel your ass, babe,” said Robert, voice contrite and strained, hoping it would be carried further. 

His boyfriend replied by kicking the blanket away, hooking one leg over Robert’s thigh. In a feat of athleticism, he twisted his body further so Robert’s cock landed near his hole. The slightest roll of his hips sent jolts to Robert's spine, making him moan uncontrollably. "Me too. Want your cock, Robert." 

These moments were the main reason why Robert kept the lube easily accessible. It started smearing the hole as the other man slowly breathed in even pace. Relaxing. 

”Keep your legs open," breathed Robert. There was a wordless dance as they searched for the best position.

One finger. The hole remembered, practically swallowing the familiar intrusion. The whimper was needy. Too small. Unsatisfying.  _More_.

Two fingers. Somebody groaned; Robert wasn't sure who. The fingers moved faster.  _God he wanted to fuck!_

They rarely reached three. Especially not today. No condoms either; they didn’t need it and Robert surely didn’t want it now. He wanted to mark his mate, wanted to express how lucky he was to receive a clean bill of health.

"Put it in," panted the other man. His face was red with arousal.

And who was Robert to deny this man in his own house?

He shoved in with a long, deep thrust. His boyfriend moaned, loudly and gloriously. His own body was overloading. Filled with the warmth, the way his boyfriend's inside massaged him, the way they  _fit_ , but also something more. A pleasant heat blooming inside his chest that rose up to his face. It made him feel like a god, like he could take on the world as long as this man was beside him.

Then he saw his mate abruptly covering his mouth exactly after the blissful sound, and Robert couldn’t hold back the rumbling laughter.

"Might 'ave been better if you do it earlier, babe." Robert laughed into his boyfriend's neck, sneaking a nip before continuing. "But no covers. Wanna hear your voice."

"Betsy," panted the man, and yeah, Robert could hear her footsteps coming closer. 

"Do you want good." Robert clamped his teeth on the shoulder, drawing a hitched breath from the other man. "Or do you want silent."

He'd make a personally handcrafted treat for Betsy. She would understand.

The younger man defiantly buried his face into a pillow. That pillow was yanked and thrown away, hitting the window before falling near their legs.

"So?" Robert kept his pace, thrusting in long, unhurried strokes.

"But--I'm--she's-- you said--" The combination between the flustered skin and his confused face made it look like the other man was turning crazy. To the spank bank it goes. Two additions and the day hadn't even started.

"Speak clearer, babe," teased Robert between nips at the other man's neck and shoulder. His attempt of innocence only made him sound eviler. In retaliation, his boyfriend clenched his inside around his shaft, making Robert gnash his teeth on tender skin.

The voice muttering was barely coherent. “More, Robert, please.”

Robert couldn't keep teasing all day. But by God he was gonna try. He moved  _really_  slowly. “What - like this?” 

His boyfriend's groan was long, frustrated, and goddamned delightful. "God, no."

"Be clearer. You're not the only one losing your mind."

The assent was practically a wail. "Harder.  _Faster_!"

That was it. The sign. He dragged his hips back and drove it forward. 

"Ah!" The other man tipped his head back, hitting another pillow, and Robert knew he had hit the lucky spot. "Yes, more. More."

Robert gave long, hard thrusts, but his tempo was controlled. Too soon. He wanted long, and wild animalistic fuck was the exact opposite of long.

His boyfriend thought otherwise. Desperate nails clawed into Robert's arms. They would leave marks. “Fuck me, Robert. Fuck me good and hard.  _Make it hurt_.”

 _Fucking Christ on a stick_. Even the suggestion was more than enough to make Robert tremble, strip away what was left of his self-control. Leave just the beast to satiate the hunger. 

His mate's leg was held up high, giving more space for him. Robert pulled back slightly before shoving his cock in, faster and stronger with each powerful thrust. The nails digged harder. Madness started overwhelming the hunter and he closed his eyes.

The rest of his senses were amplified. There was his growl, low and hungry. There was his boyfriend's voice, gasps and moans that were higher pitched than his usual. And there were the loud and wet slapping sounds of thigh meeting thigh, balls slapping against ass as they kept fucking. Robert could feel their body getting a lot warmer and a bit slicker with sweat. It didn't smell any different-- his boyfriend only smelled stronger when he sweated-- but Robert suspected his boyfriend was inching towards madness. God, he loved how crazy his boyfriend was with his scent. He loved how crazy his boyfriend could be in general.

Both of them were moaning when the younger man started rocking in time  with Robert's thrusts. His asshole clenched around the shaft like a vice. Robert bit down on some part of him. He moaned.

“Like that?” Robert growled as he kept pounding and pounding, vaguely noting that the bed had started beating the wall with with dull thuds.

"God, yes!" wailed the other man. "More! Please, more!" One of his hands released itself from holding on Robert to stroke himself rapidly. 

After kissing and biting any surface his mouth could reach, Robert buried his face on his mate's neck, panting his mate's name again and again, knowing full well he wouldn't last long. Twenty thrust, at best.  _One, two, three..._

His boyfriend was hyperventilating at this point. "Robert. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me."  _six, seven, eight..._

Robert started shaking. "Gonna cum, babe. Gonna cum so hard inside you."  _eleven, twelve, thirteen..._

With a yank, Robert's lips were claimed by the delirious man. His ball clenched.  _Seventeen_.  _That's it._

He roared into the kiss. And pumped white, hot seed inside his mate. His toes curled against the rumpled bedsheet, his cock throbbing like never before. The pounding inside his head threatened to pop his head from inside out like a bad horror movie.

Robert was about to drown in the blissful orgasm when he realized that his boyfriend was still moaning and jerking himself off madly. _Not yet_ , Robert thought.  _Not yet_. He fought against hypersensitivity and continued pumping his still hard organ inside the wet channel. It was kind of unpleasant.

It didn't take long for the younger man to ejaculate with an equally loud yell, spraying cum on the bed.

 _Now_ he could drown in the afterglow. His cock were pulled with a loud pop. In another time, Robert would admire his handiwork. Now, he just wanted to rest.

The room became eerily quiet with only the sound of their ragged breaths filling the room. When Robert opened his eyes, he saw that his boyfriend was looking at him, slack-jawed. Messed up. Disheveled. Robert loved that look, not the least of which is the contrast. His boyfriend's face was typically the picture of calmness, sometimes the face of a saint, even. Other times he looked silly and awkward. Now glossy eyes were looking at Robert like he was a god, like he was as powerful as the way this man made him feel.

_Ain't it grand if he's changed forever because of you?_

The beast inside him yawned one last thought before it slept, satiated for the time being.  Robert pulled the man closer to face him. Light kisses were peppered all around as careful lips grazed the new marks. They were angry red, making a gradient of sort with older marks. “Do they hurt?” asked Robert.

“Got what I wanted.”

The answer was followed by more kisses. The hunter couldn't even care about morning breaths right now. All he wanted to do was to kiss his boyfriend and hold him close like this.

Robert didn’t expect himself to love this man so much. He wanted him to know that.

Some time was spent before either of them broke the silence, and the first thing his boyfriend did was to curl to the side and massage his own hip. "O--ow. " He groaned with a laugh. "Bad idea. Really bad idea."

Robert couldn't help the laughter. "C'mon. You're younger than me," said himself, massaging the younger man.

"Exactly," panted the other man. The groan was a faint echo of his earlier groan. "How could you do that, Robert."

"Lots of exercise, of course." He grinned. "Want my help? I swear Cahn got nothing on me."

Actually, judging from his boyfriend's lack of physical activity aside from their activities and Craig's training, Robert wondered if he himself should ask Craig for his help. It was clear he needed help in many aspects; what was wrong in getting more? As sappy as it was, Robert wanted to look his best. He wanted his boyfriend to look at his best for a long, long time.

To paraphrase Marilyn Monroe, he had already handled Robert at his worst.

A rough hand secured its place on the other's chest, held under two smaller hands in some sort of ritual, a reminder that they were  _alive_. The other arm circled the head, combing the soft hair with his fingers. Robert inhaled the hair again, smelling coconut and vanilla and sweat. 

The afterglow was Robert’s favorite part. Loved how he could cling even tighter during these moments, pressing smiling lips into red, sweaty shoulders. Loved the way his boyfriend held onto him, breathed him, feasting on  _his_  smell like a starving man. Loved the way euphoria filled his entire cells and the lightheadedness that felt a thousand times better than being drunk. In fact, he sometimes dreamed of spending the rest of their days like these; fucking and making love and cuddling all day long.

The idea of sleeping again presented itself as an extension to that daydream. It sounded really good, as good as a daydream could ever be. But the rising sun reminded him that the idea was still a daydream. There would be some sort of sign to get up and start living anytime soon, and they would face yesterday’s ghosts, tomorrow’s fears, and the troubles of today. His mate's heart hammered fast against Robert's hand, as if thinking the same thing.

But realization rose, as bright and definite like the sun. It wasn't a problem. Nowadays he loved everything that comes after the morning. Loved the struggle, the laughter, the good and bad and the boring, loved everything perfect and flawed and human between the two of them. 

He was wrong; this wasn't weakness. This was strength as intense as it had been with Marilyn.

He wouldn't have it any other way-- He couldn't now, in fact.

Robert loved this man. 

So he landed a careful kiss, bearing a reverence one might present to a deity, and held the other man tight. Waiting for the sign.

It came in the form of two cellphone alarms. His was a recording of Betsy; his boyfriend the sound of the forest. Pills time. Time to wake up.

“Your meds,” murmured his boyfriend, turning around to grab both their cellphones.

The alarm was shut down, and the younger man groggily sat on the crumpled bed. His joints were cracking loud as he stretched around. "So, what are your plans for today?"

Robert gave his spine one single kiss before getting up too. He would wash the sheets later. They were going to be dirtied again. The sun had glared brighter and he had to cover his eyes from the merciless rays. "Betsy." Who had returned back to playing, judging from the sounds. "Thinking of giving her a homemade burger and taking her for a walk. Then whittling. You?"

His boyfriend leaned to his shoulder, and it was crazy how fast Robert's cock started to stir again. "Thinking of working from home."

"When have you not worked from home?" Not always but whatever.

"Not  _my_  home for today," retorted the younger man with a knowing smile, and Robert just had to kiss him again.

"Sure," murmured Robert into the kiss, before he leaped outside the bed. His pills were neatly placed in a weekly organizer, so it only took him five seconds to swallow the ones he ought to take for the morning.  _May there be no side effects today_. "But now we gotta rise." 

"Cold winter days, here I come." His boyfriend stood and pulled the blanket, wrapping it around his shoulder like a bathrobe. He walked to the door and opened it, shivering as he did. It was ridiculously adorable.

Tousling his hair back, Robert breathed. His sight wandered to the backyard, the cherry tree that would bloom gloriously in spring, and the sun that shone above them.

And then he followed his boyfriend outside, dealing with whatever the day had in store for them.

**Author's Note:**

> ...if writing in Second POV was weird, writing about Dadsona without saying his name was _weirder_.
> 
> I tried writing with a different style than Like Coming Home. I..kinda like both? Feels like this kind of writing style suits Robert's headspace more.  
> Constructive criticism and comments are welcomed as usual <3


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